“John,” he whispered toward the back seat, “If I’d known you’d try to talk me out of this, I’d have left you at the station....give it a rest!”
“But this is what search warrants are for, Ollie!” Collinson said for the fourth time.
Oliver pulled himself just above the front seat’s edge, shooting Collinson a look before laying back down.
“Oh, sure," he hissed at his partner while staring up at the car's roof. "We just have to go to Judge Parker at 9:00pm on a Friday night and tell him we need a search warrant, immediately. Why do we need a search warrant, Judge Parker? To search JenelCo, one of the Monterey County’s biggest employers, who also happens to be a major contributor to your re-election campaign!”
Oliver shifted his right leg as it rested against the steering wheel, now growing sore.
“Oh, one more thing Judge Parker,” he continued. “We need to search the Personnel files of JenelCo. We believe we might have evidence of organized crime, in a company who may have funded your successful bid it to become Judge three years ago!"
Collinson was silent for several minutes.
“Well, answer me this then, Ollie. Do you think it will work?”
“If what my 'Brother' said is true, yes, however we’re dead meat if he was lying.” Oliver took a deep breath. “You plugged in, John?” He heard Collinson shift in the back seat.
“Yeah,” Collinson said after a pause.
Oliver sat upright in the near darkness and unlatched his door. The resulting click echoed softly against the cement walls around them.
“Let’s do it,” Oliver said, pushing his door wide, then stepped out quietly. Collinson followed and soon both were at the garage elevator that led into JenelCo’s main entrance.
“Hello, Peidmont...Collinson,” Benson said as they came around a nearby column and into the light.
Oliver ignored the agent as he came up alongside them and entered the code, Jenny had provided that called the elevator downward after business hours.
“Why, Benson.” Peidmont turned toward the agent. “What an unpleasant surprise.”
“I had a feeling you’d go for those documents without me, Peidmont,” Benson said, ignoring the insult. “I figured if I followed you long enough, you’d eventually lead me to them.”
Collinson turned to the agent.
“We’re after something else right now, Benson.” The elevator doors split wide and Oliver, followed by Collinson, stepped into the large, ornate elevator. Benson stepped in as the doors began to close.
The elevator had moved upward only a few feet when Benson reached past Oliver and struck the emergency stop button, bringing it to a sudden halt.
Both Oliver and Collinson turned toward the agent, who spoke first. “Perhaps you don’t care if a crime’s been committed by this company. But if you have knowledge that can help in collecting crucial evidence, you both have a duty to do that.”
Oliver looked at his watch and let out an exaggerated sigh.
“All right, Benson, if we have time to get the documents, great. But our first priority is a tape that could prove Jen...Mrs. McKenny’s innocence.”
Benson’s eyes lit up. “So you know where they are, Peidmont? The documents?”
Oliver punched the release button that sent them moving upward.
“Yes, but like I said, Benson, the first priority is the tape. Once we get it, we’ll go after your precious evidence.” The elevator doors opened into the main lobby where Oliver had met the Miss America left-overs the first time he’d visited JenelCo.
“Damn!” Oliver pushed the button hurriedly, afraid a night security guard would suddenly appear. “We’ve gone too far.” The doors sealed once again and they descended a level before facing a vaguely familiar hallway.
“Where did Jenny say the taping room was?” Collinson asked stepping off the elevator behind Oliver.”
“She didn’t,” Oliver replied. "But I'm betting it’s near Jenel’s private hideaway.”
It took a few minutes before they stumbled onto the stairwell and then down to where Jenny had been shot days before. They fanned out along the hallway, testing doors on both sides, finding all but a utility closet locked.
One by one, Peidmont and Collinson picked the ten or so locks along the hallway to discover each time an ordinary office on the other side. Ten minutes later, they converged once more in front of Jenel’s old hideaway.
“Okay, Peidmont,” Benson whispered impatiently. “We’ve looked for the tape with zero results. It’s time to go for those documents.”
Oliver nodded, reluctantly, staring at the agent. “
Okay..but if we can, we’re coming back down here to search for that tape.”
At that moment, a door opened at the top of the stairwell, and whistling a familiar tune, someone walked down toward them. All three men slipped noiselessly into the nearby utility closet. The footsteps approached, then passed before entering an office they’d been in only minutes before.
"We’ll wait here for a few minutes" Oliver said flicking on the light. “It’s probably just an employee who’s forgotten something.” But ten sweaty minutes later no footsteps had been heard.
After another five minutes, Collinson became fidgety.
“Come on, Oliver,” he said, finally breaking the silence. ”Let’s get out of here.” Oliver stood looking at the cleaning supplies around them. “Ollie!” Collinson grew impatient. “Did you hear me?”
“Have you ever seen such a well stocked supply closet?” Oliver asked, mostly to himself. “Every container full, the broom’s never touched a dirty floor, the rags spotless and hung just so. The vacuum is brand new and...” The two men eyed him warily. Oliver leaned over and unlatched the vacuum’s main body area where a disposable bag should have been. “Hah! Just as I thought!”
“What the hell are you talking about, Peidmont?” Benson said, clearly exasperated.
“I knew it had to be close by or else it was useless to Jenel,” Oliver whispered in triumph. He turned and began moving the items on the walls and shelves. “Look around, boys,” Peidmont instructed the two men. “I think we’ve found our secret taping room.”
Finding a secret entrance in such a small area didn’t take long. An ordinary whisk broom, hanging from an especially thick nail opened a small room filled with electronic equipment. Across one entire wall stood a bank of monitors, each aglow with key views within JenelCo. All were empty of movement except for the bottom right screen.
Oliver’s heart pounded in his ears as he recognized two of the three people now casually talking in Jenel’s bedroom suite. Paul Jeffers and Jack Sullivan, along with an attractive woman sat lounging on the monitor before him. He scanned various switches and dials, adjusting several before the silent conversation on the screen filled the room.
Chief Williams peeked at his watch, and with relief, saw it was time to leave. He reached for the check as Dawson told a story he’d heard twice before and grimaced when he saw the total came to over two hundred dollars. He turned toward the wives and with a souring stomach, realized Ruth Dawson was still going strong. All he could do was sit back and hope Peidmont would prove to be his usual, late self.
“...will file so many charges against her, she’ll spend the rest of her life in jail. When I’m done painting Hana as a local saint and hero, cut down in his prime by a bitter, vengeful adulteress, the jury will vote for the electric chair.”
The words of Jack Sullivan, Monterey’s District Attorney, contained a preacher-like element which Oliver had endured for weeks when Sullivan had tried and failed to bury him during his own trial. Had Linda not testified, he just might have succeeded.
He turned from Sullivan’s image to the line of seven CD tray's just below the screen. He counted seven of them, with one lit up, apparently recording the image on the screen. He pressed an unlit tray and a disk twice the normal size slid out and Oliver understood each could record a full twenty four hour period.
Collins
on made the connection also, “One for each day of the week, I suppose.”
“If today’s Friday...” Oliver moved two trays down, pressed the eject button and withdrew the CD. “Then this should prove upsetting to Sullivan’s plans.”
“Come on, Peidmont,” Benson called anxiously behind him. “You’ve got the tape, now let’s get my documents.”
Tempted to grab all the tapes, Oliver turned instead and followed the other two out into the hall.
Five minutes later, Oliver picked his way past a standard door lock and into the company’s personnel record’s room. As promised, the overhead lights revealed shelves and shelves of small metal containers like the one he'd watched Jeffers open, one for each of JenelCo’s two hundred plus employees.
“So now what, Peidmont?” Benson’s tone had regained a measure of patience.
Oliver began scanning names atop each of the containers. “Now we look for a name that rings a bell.”
Benson stared at him in disbelief, but Oliver was unmoved. “If you have a better idea, I’m willing to hear it.” Apparently the agent didn’t and began calling out the names along with Collinson as they slowly made their way along the shelves.
Within ten minutes, the three men had gone through nearly every box and had set aside six as possibilities. It was however, the final name that Benson read out which sent Oliver racing down the small ladder he was perched on.
“That’s it!” Oliver responded eagerly, skipping several rungs as he hopped then walked to where Benson stood holding an identical box to all they'd gone through save for the name.
“Well," Benson said, handing the box. "Who's Emily Beeler?"
“The daughter of Carol’s Montoya’s...ex-boyfriend,” Oliver said, thinking of the now fatherless little girl Jenny had described. “Definitely a name few people would recognize and I’m sure that’s why Carol used it. Mrs. McKenny mentioned her when I told her about Beeler’s murder.”
Oliver studied the small LCD display on the front of the box, then entered Jenny's false birth date and a second later, the container emitted out two-tone beep as the inner latch released. As he lifted the lid, Oliver felt a gun press against his Kevlar vest.
“Get away from the box, Peidmont,” Benson said icily behind him. “Otherwise I get to blow a hole in you.”
Collinson looked up from putting the other containers away. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Shut up, Collinson,” the agent growled, “Unless you want Peidmont to die right now.”
“Listen to him John," Oliver said, turning to look at his partner.
As Collinson slowly backed away, Benson pressed the gun between Oliver’s shoulder blades, then reached around and lifted his the gun free of his holster. With a clatter, Benson tossed Oliver's gun onto the top shelf above.
“Okay, Collinson, pull your gun out...slowly, and then throw it onto the top shelf as well. And Collinson,” Benson grinned cruelly, “My gun contains some very special armor piercing bullets. They’ll cut through Piedmont’s Kevlar vest like butter.”
Collinson slowly withdrew his gun, then indicated he was ready. Oliver felt the gun press deeper as Collinson flung it upward, the clatter of it landing atop one of the employee containers, raising the room’s tension level.
“Very good, Collinson. You both get to live a little bit longer.”
Somehow, this didn’t make Oliver feel better. He slowly stepped away from the box and turned to face Benson.
“So you’re the informant you warned us about, clever. Not only can you waltz in wherever you want as a federal agent, you can also profit from those evolved criminals you were so very concerned about.”
The twisted grin reappeared as Benson reached into the Carol's employee container and withdrew the documents.
“The money’s good and the retirement plan is out of the country, if you catch my meaning.” He waved his gun toward the door. “Let’s go deliver some papers.”
“Where the hell are you going, Patrick?”
“Henry!!” Ruth Dawson called reproachfully from the back seat. “Please watch your language in the presence of ladies.” Williams sensed the look which passed between the older couple.
“What I mean to say, Patrick,” Dawson said after a telling pause. “...is that you’re taking an interesting route back to the station.”
Williams gave Dawson his most engaging smile.
“I, uh, discovered an unusual spot over by the Monterey Business Park last weekend. I think you and the wives might enjoy it. It’s possibly one of the best views of Monterey Bay,” he added, aware the Dawson's were avid travelers.
A brief silence hung in the car as Dawson eyed him. “Well, that sounds interesting.” With that, the older cop turned toward the front.
Williams almost felt sorry for the man.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Though there were several opportunities, Oliver and Collinson followed Benson's directions as he walked them down to Jenel’s former office. With his gun aimed at Oliver’s chest, Benson pounded several times before Sullivan opened the door. The attorney didn’t act at all surprised when Oliver and Collinson stepped through the entrance. Benson waved them toward two chairs near the wall.
“Peidmont, you do get around,” Sullivan commented as he sat down.
“I’d say the same about you,” replied Oliver. “Frame any cops lately?”
“Just you, Peidmont." Sullivan's shark-like smile spread wide. The District Attorney turned to the agent. “Good work, Benson...time we got rid of this bastard.”
Jeffers rose from the bed and extended his hand toward the agent.
“Barbara, this is FBI Agent, Harry Benson, an invaluable resource to JenelCo and an old friend from college. He’s recently helped with some inquiries regarding our operation.”
Oliver watched her stiffen at the agent’s title, but she recovered and shook Benson’s hand cordially.
“I’m glad a man with your resources is working for us.”
“And these two,” the giant gestured toward Oliver and Collinson, “are two minor irritants soon to be eliminated.”
Benson lifted the papers tucked under his arm.
“The fool led me right to The Consortium’s documents, just as you predicted, Paul.”
Alarm flashed across Ms. Thompson's face.
Williams turned the car off as it came to rest at the cliff’s edge. He said nothing as Dawson stared into the dark. The lights of the Monterey Business Park dotted the landscape before them.
“Well,” Dawson said, pausing. “It’s not what I would call the best view in Monterey...” His voice trailed off.
Williams turned to his wife who a moment later, whispered something into Ruth Dawson’s ear.
“Henry?” Ruth reached forward and touched her husband’s shoulder. “Shelly and I need to step outside for a little girl talk.”
Dawson turned in his seat, a paternal fondness softened his stern features in the low light. “If you must, fine, but be careful of holes and ruts in the ground.”
“Yes, dear,” the older woman answered as if she had been instructed to stay in the shallow end of a pool. The two women were gone a moment later, and he was alone with Dawson. He suddenly became aware of the older man’s stare.
“Well...” Dawson blurted out. ”
“Well, what?” Williams answered warily, feeling like a kid caught stealing.
“Patrick,” Dawson scowled. “After twenty-eight years of police work, do you think I can’t see a set up when it’s in front of my nose?”
In answer, Williams reached under his seat, withdrew the small laptop sized receiver and punched in the proper frequency. Dawson, he observed, merely sat waiting as he stared into the darkness.
“What papers?”
Thompson’s question cut like a knife through the room and for a minute only silence answered her.
“Barbara,” Jeffers finally answered, his words rushed and desperate. “Jenel compiled some highly sensitive informa
tion about The Consortium, which I believe were meant to blackmail the other members. For the last few days I’ve been tracking them down, with Benson’s help.”
“WHAT?” Thompson shrieked as she flew off the bed.
The conversation coming over the receiver was not of CD quality, but it was clear and understandable. Williams set the listening device between himself and Dawson, then leaned against his door.
Dawson’s gaze withdrew from the darkness beyond the windshield, settling on Williams.
“Are you going you explain why we’re listening to a private conversation, Patrick?”
“Once we’re done here, Henry," Williams replied. "I’ll explain in as much detail as you like.”
Dawson responded with a single quick nod, then returned to the night beyond and the escalating conversation coming over the unusual looking speaker.
“Barbara,“ Jeffers rested his huge hands on the woman’s shoulders. “Please hear me out.”
With an almost violent motion, Thompson shook herself free and strode to Benson, wrenching the papers from him as she did so. Jeffers shot an appeasing look toward the clearly irritated agent.
As she rifled through the documents, her reaction was immediate. “Oh, my, God! OH. MY. GOD!”
Oliver chuckled slightly, casually folding his arms as he did so. “Oops," he said. "Did they forgot to mention that?”
Jeffers swung toward him, violence in his eyes.
“Shut up, Peidmont, unless you want to die right this minute.” Oliver uncrossed his arms, lifting both hands in surrender.
“Barbara, please,” Jeffers implored as he turned back toward the seething woman. “There’s no need for this kind of reaction.”
“You...!” The executive's icy stare was absolute. “May call me, Ms. Thompson.” Turning toward Benson, she held up the documents. “Have the two cops seen these?”
Somewhat flustered, Benson first looked to Jeffers, then back to the enraged woman.
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